After failing to find a job teaching English in the capital, I set my sights on getting work in Oaxaca. The town seemed lively and had a buzz that suggested English could be in demand. Here's another short story about the delights of living and travelling in Mexico.

No wonder Uvlad had fussed about the
hostel. The toilets stank of sewage, the walls were covered in mould, and the
roof leaked. When I woke my sleeping bag was drenched from the overnight
downpour. I left Uvlad to pack up his things and nipped out to find somewhere
more liveable.

"I’ve found a better
hostel round the corner, same price and there’s a funny Argentinean geezer on
reception," I said to Uvlad.

The hostel on Av
Independencia was much cleaner, had a pool table, two hammocks, there were less
beds per square metre, and no dripping roof.

Victor, from Buenos
Aires, was running the place during the day. He was just under 6ft tall, with
jet-black hair and eager wide eyes. He’d been travelling round Mexico for a
couple of years and was hoping to save up some money to go to England. Being an
Argentinean in Mexico was more difficult than he’d imagined.

"They treat us like dirt
here. All I want to do is learn more English so I can leave this place and go
to your country."

"In England they’ll
treat you like dirt too, especially if you like football," I said, joking.

"I don’t care, you must
be better than these Mexicans."

When he discovered I was
an English teacher (at least supposedly), we made a pact that he would help me
find a job if we spoke English together. An immediate friendship was born.

I felt rejuvenated, eager, and ready to battle
it out with the language schools. Oaxaca would be a perfect place to teach
English and learn some Spanish, but I had to change tactics. Both Uvlad and
Victor told me to take a different approach and lie.

"Tell them you stay long
time, worry about the consequences after," Victor said with his naughty grin. A
little Latin porkie pie wouldn’t hurt anyone, maybe it was worth a try.

There were only a
handful of schools compared to the capital but after seeing the amount of
potential students, I was sure that I would have some luck. At the first
language school, I was able to speak to the director immediately.

"Oh, that would be
great," said the American woman.

"Brilliant, I replied
thinking I had finally had some luck.

"Yes, but we don’t need
teachers now," she added. "Times are hard for the people of Oaxaca and learning English is a luxury." I
thought I’d hit gold for a minute, but didn’t let it stop me and continued
hunting. Unfortunately, the next school I found had thick wooden planks nailed
across it, and the third had changed into a restaurant, maybe she had been
right.

After three days, it was
clear I wouldn’t need to lie to anyone; most of the schools took my CV but were
struggling for business. I liked Oaxaca
though and wanted to stay.

"Why don’t you put up
some adverts for private lessons?" Uvlad suggested as we sat swinging in the
hammocks.

"Yeah, but where can I
give the lessons?"

"Why don’t you ask
Victor? You can use the space up here." It was a genius idea and Victor was up
for helping me but it wasn’t his call.

"This is good idea amigo, but I need speak the
boss," he said. The owner, Pablo, was out of town so I had to wait until the
next day.